Quiet Christmas

It was already quite clear to everyone in September that Christmas this year could not possibly be a joyous time for any of us. While we were in Michigan Daniel took us to the “biggest Christmas store in the world”, but I think none of us were really in a frame of mind to try to imagine looking forward to Christmas. Right at the start, a display rack with big, round, yellow “happy face” ornaments stopped us in our tracks, as though the display rack had a huge blinking sign on it that said “AMY!” At first, I couldn’t imagine putting something like that on our tree, but Daniel bought two of them, one for his house, one for Paddy to take home.

When we finally managed to get a tree and put it up on Tuesday, Paddy hung up the “happy face” ornament first, and I almost had the feeling that was enough, that we could just leave the tree as it was then. However, Christopher and I did then proceed to hang up some other ornaments as well, with Paddy periodically commanding “freeze!” so that he could take a picture without flash, and the “happy face” ornament displayed prominently close to the top goes well with Bean’s star with one slightly wilted arm (it was a bit close to a candle one year).

A bit late this year (as usual), but still at least close to the beginning of December, Paddy, Christopher and Seth went with me into town to pick out Christmas treats to send to the various family households in England, Michigan and Albuquerque. I was grateful that the boys came with me and kept track of things while holding intense philosophical debates at the same time. I wasn’t coping very well, and there was no way I could have done it alone. It was at that point that Paddy suggested we don’t really need presents for Christmas, and we could really just skip the consumerism part and boycott shopping, which sounded like a tremendous relief to me. In the end we agreed that all we really need for Christmas are books to read and sweets to nibble, so we agreed to give each other presents, but no more than a book each, although I was not relieved from elf duty as far as stockings are concerned. The “one book each” idea eventually expanded to include films, and Peter cheated a bit by getting a nice sweater for each of us, but that worked too. Christmas presents – and thus also Christmas shopping – were kept to an absolute minimum this year, and that turned out to be very cozy and reassuring.

Feeling so very ambivalent about Christmas this year, over the past few weeks I have been thinking about what Christmas felt like to me growing up and what memories my sons might keep. One of my strongest memories is that when I was a child, Christmas actually started when we went to the airport to pick up the Shanahans. I’m glad the Shanahans are in Albuquerque this year, where I imagine they are most needed, but I wish so much that I could see them again. I think the best Christmases we have had with the boys were the ones shared with at least some part of the rest of my family, whether in the US or in Europe, but it has been too long now since that last happened. I had hoped so much that this would be the year when Amy would be able to come here again. When the boys were little, it was fun – at least I thought it was fun – to bake and decorate together before Christmas, but that ended as soon as they started secondary school. With all the pressure from school, it is just not possible to do any kind of preparations for Christmas together, and if we can’t do it together, then there is no point in doing it at all. This year again, the reason we didn’t get our Christmas tree until Tuesday evening was that the boys both had math tests Tuesday morning and had to keep studying until then.

Assuming the boys both finish school in the coming year, I have no idea what Christmas might possibly be like in the future. Maybe we really will just skip it altogether, or maybe big family gatherings might be possible again. For right now, though, it is good to have just a few quiet days together.

I don't want to wait for 2068

I'm not sure that this is the right place to post this, but I can't think of anywhere else where it might be more fitting. In a sense I guess you could argue that this has plagued my mind since yesterday afternoon.

I had art class yesterday afternoon, and since there was a soccer-tournament in school, we were all of three people, besides our teacher. In any case, we talked about developments in the 20th century in painting and architecture for the first hour and then I talked to her about growing up in the late 60s and early 70s. Playing games like “Such den bösen Staatspolizist”, which translates to “look for the bad policeman”, at demonstrations. It's a shame that sort of thing doesn't work anymore, since now we have CCTV and digital “security”.

But all together I guess it's not just a shame we can't play games at demonstrations, at least they wouldn't be so obvious. I was actually talking to a friend of mine last Sunday as well, it's not like there's less around to be mad about. If I think about there's more to be mad about, they've actually tricked us into thinking that we've achieved something. I'm not playing down anything now, I'm just saying that if you compare what was demanded to what was granted, you'll see that it seems ridiculous that my generation is in a state of almost complete apathy.

We're practically fed satisfaction in every aspect of life, and I for one begin to find this more and more sickening. I get so worked up walking down the shopping street in Linz because people seem to have detached themselves completely from reality and seriously believe that that's what it means to be peaceful. It just means that people that are not quite so horribly susceptible to bright lights and tacky music are provoked more and more. Movies and TV-programs, obviously are made that way, but they're so cleverly made that even if you realize what they are trying to get at, you still think they're a good laugh. They are actually made so that they break down a thinking person from the level of reading Naomi Klein down to not reading at all.

And because that's what one does, people my age go out drinking every weekend and pretend they're little plastic world doesn't exist once they drink enough. I just like the company of my friends, yet still when I go out to meet them and have a beer I'm put exactly in the same drawer. Then once we have finished the “training-camp” they like to call school we enter the “real world” where we are confronted with problems like finding a job, earning money, keeping money, finding a spouse, having children, getting the children through school so they can enter the same cycle.

I'm not sure but when I read about the time 40 years ago, wasn't that mentality exactly what people were so angry about? Wasn't that why people went demonstrating? My art teacher told me that that's true, but that's because the childhood in my generation was so much easier, because growing up was so much easier. We were never confronted with what our parents revolted against so we are perceptible to it. A generation of so-called hippies was not followed by more hippies or by people that would continue their train of thought, instead we have pulled the hand-break and are going in the opposite direction, back to where they came from singing songs.

She also told me that that's because they had less to be afraid about. In Austria we're in a position that even with our diploma and a master's degree in something or another we have to look hard for work. She said they were sure something'll work out. I'm not sure to what extent I can agree with her on that, I think that we must realize that there are more important things in life than working, sleeping, eating and drinking. We must realize that fearing the future will not make it go away, we can only try to better it and up-holding the status quo is no use. Why be so bent on repeating mistakes? If it's obvious that something doesn't work and leaves thousands home-less, hungry and often dead then why be so bent on privatizing emergency response, for example.

I'm not quite sure how to end this, so I think I shall end by quoting a line from a song by a friend of mine.

Des anzige wos hüft is da rode knopf (The only thing that helps is the red button)

Another memory for Joseph

Looking for something else, I happened to find an email that I wrote to Amy about Joseph's visit to Austria by himself, when he was 13. So here is another memory for Joseph:

Date: Sun, 5 Aug 2001 00:12:44 +0200 (MEST)
From: Aileen Derieg
To: "Amy D. Boehms"
Subject: Potential young opera lover

I just had a lovely chat with the three boys when I went in to say good-night and tuck them in. Since we are invited to the Masons tomorrow for a party for the cast and crew of the opera this year, I suggested that showers/baths and clean clothes would be appropriate tomorrow morning. I reminded my boys that good manners will be very much appreciated and explained to Joseph that these are very special friends. Then, in light of certain comments intended to be funny over the past few days, I pointed out to Joseph that derogatory comments about opera would probably not go over well in this company. He thought about it for a minute and then decided that it would be really cool to come to Europe as an American not knowing anything about opera, and then go home as an opera lover. What a wonderful solution! I admit, I am charmed. I pointed out that he would be following a family tradition in that case, since his grandfather and great-uncle Joe returned from a trip to Chicago and became paying members of the San Antonio Opera Society at the age of 18, and told them all the story about how Juanita used to sit Dad, Joe and Pat in front of the radio every Sunday afternoon for the opera hour when they were hardly more than kindergarten age, with the result that every one of them was able to whistle arias from famous operas for the rest of his life. Joseph sat up and said, "Is that what he used to whistle?!"

Are you ready for this? It seems that your son is ready to become an opera lover.

I am so glad he is here - I am impressed with how adaptable he is, so that it feels as though he has always been here. After Patrick finished decorating his cake to take tomorrow (he took a picture, so I will send that to you), he was so thrilled he wanted everyone to come and look. Christopher looked at the cake and was so impressed, he threw his arms around Patrick to give him a big hug, so Joseph put his arms around both of them. Then he looked at me and said "Group hug!" and held out his arm, so I joined them, too. The little one getting squashed in the middle was very, very happy. So they work well as a threesome, too.

If you would like to see pictures of the cake, Peter just put them up
at http://eliot.priv.at/cake_of_ulysses/

This also just reminded me to go and look for fresh batteries, so that we can take some pictures of your son tomorrow, too.

Watch for coming attractions.

Memories of Joseph

Joseph left a note on Facebook asking for memories, so memories of Joseph have been going through my mind all day. The little boxes on Facebook are too irritatingly small, though, so I needed to move to a different space to start writing.

So this is for Joseph:

The day Joseph was born

When we got the news that Amy had finally had the baby (Peter and I had been looking at the return date on our tickets and getting a bit nervous), somehow Mother and Dad thought a decision had been reached that they should go first to see their new grandson, and the rest of us should take turns going in quietly a few at a time later throughout the day. As soon as their car pulled out of the driveway and turned the corner, we all agreed that we knew what our sister liked, so we all piled into (at least) two cars and headed for the nearest party shop – all of us: Dan and Pat, Jim and Sara with baby Jack, Peter and me (I have been trying all day to remember whether Kris was with us too, but I think she must have been). At first we were a bit stymied, when the party shop had no “welcome new baby” banners, so I think we agreed that “happy birthday” would be close enough, bought banners and balloons and headed for the hospital.

Mother was not pleased when she looked out the window and saw us all parading down the path with banners and balloons, but we did know what our sister liked, even as exhausted as she was. Jack, in particular, was clearly having a wonderful time, although I doubt that the hospital staff was any more pleased than Mother was.

At some point then, Clifford and I went outside together to smoke. Listening to him talk on and on about Amy, about this amazing baby, the whole overwhelming experience, I felt that I could understand what Amy had seen in him, why she had decided to marry this man. It was the first time (sadly also the last time) that I heard him speak of Amy with genuine admiration and respect, and I was touched to see what the birth of his son meant to him. With all the hurt and disappointments that have come between, I am still glad that I had that brief opportunity to catch a glimpse of the man that Clifford might have been.

This beautiful, wonderful new little person that was born that day: it meant so much to me that Amy has asked Peter and me to be Joseph’s godparents. Amy had shared my pain in losing my first two babies, knew the fears that Peter and I were facing that we might never be able to have children of our own, and she was willing to share her baby with us, for which I was – and still am – deeply grateful.